


Rough Night

by loveinslowmotion



Category: One Direction (Band), Taylor Swift - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Haylor, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-28
Updated: 2015-05-28
Packaged: 2018-04-01 16:10:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4026358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loveinslowmotion/pseuds/loveinslowmotion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry's time at the party after the Billboards was less than desirable when he struggles to come to terms with Taylor moving on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rough Night

Normally after parties were Harry's thing. He enjoyed a good few drinks and some dancing with mates after an award show; he should've been happy with the invitation he received. But the thought of spending the rest of the night acting like his usual everything-is-fine self made him want to run as fast as he could.   
  
If it wasn't for Niall's persistent nagging, Harry would've gone back to his hotel and booked a flight out of there. His argument of “even Louis is going” was somewhat convincing, but that was a totally different thing. _Louis_ wasn't going to a party where his ex-girlfriend was going to be there with her new boyfriend. _Louis_ wasn't going to have to pretend to be happy for them. That was all pinned on Harry.   
  
In the end it was Louis himself who finally convinced him, saying, “Look, I'm going 'cause Niall wants me to, but I'd rather not be stuck by myself when he has too many beers and ditches me for someone else. At least stick with me for an hour, yeah? Promise you can go home after that, if that's what you want.”  
  
It took only a few minutes at the Swift/Sheeran House Party for Harry to want to leave. The bouncy high-spirited atmosphere was the opposite of how he was feeling, which only seemed to make him feel worse. He shouldn't even really have felt that bad — it had been a good night, winning their awards and catching up with people he hadn't seen in a while. But nothing could dull the hit to the chest of seeing the girl he wanted want someone else.   
  
Niall and Louis stuck around him when they first arrived, though Harry was awfully quiet. He offered not much more than a small smile and a "hi" to the other guests they ran into, giving a hug here and there. He wasn't his usual social butterfly self, which both of them realised and promptly gave him a drink to cheer him up. Yeah, like he could just drown out his feelings with a bit of liquor.   
  
As they skirted the party, Harry wasn't surprised they avoided the hosts. Both of them seemed busy talking to other people anyway — a certain _someone_ always lingering around, he couldn't help but notice bitterly.   
  
On the ride over, Harry had tried to rehearse what he might say to Taylor when they eventually had to have a conversation. He wouldn't be able to escape it, so he thought he may as well be prepared. Normally he loved any opportunity to get to talk to her, but tonight he was a little afraid his first sentence might come out like, “Fuck you,” which certainly wasn't the way to impress her. It wouldn't really be fair, either.   
  
The way Harry saw it was that he'd been replaced. He'd been replaced by a taller yet shorter-haired guy with impressive abs and a nice face. He'd been replaced by someone who could make her face light up and her heart flutter in a way she hadn't felt in years. He'd been replaced by someone who could give her the strength and maturity that she needed to make a relationship work. And the worst thing was he _liked_ the guy.   
  
In saying that though, Harry's like for Calvin had significantly decreased since he'd heard he was seeing Taylor. It had dropped even more tonight when he discovered they were sitting next to each other at the show, smiling and whispering and hugging and sending each other flirty glances. His How Much I Like Calvin scale was definitely going to be in the red after the night was over, and weirdly enough he found it brought a sick kind of lift to his mood at the idea of a How Much I Hate Calvin scale instead. Louis gave him a concerned look as he considered it, and he quickly hid his face by taking another sip of his drink, disguising whatever psychotic expression the thought had twisted onto his face. It was going to be a _long_ hour. 

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

  
  
By the time he had to face Taylor, Harry was already almost finished his second drink, had seen her kiss Calvin seven times, counted three butt touches, and debated whether or not he could survive opening up one of the windows and jumping out. According to his watch, he only had 42 minutes and 36 seconds to go before he could exit the normal way.   
  
“Hey you,” Taylor smiled brightly, pulling him into a hug he accepted half-heartedly. “When did you get here?”  
  
Harry looked at his wrist. “About 17 minutes and 56 seconds ago,” he answered flatly. She gave him a puzzled look.   
  
“Don't mind him, practicing his counting,” Louis joked, elbowing Harry lightly in the ribs from his spot next to him by the table.   
  
“Congratulations on your awards!” Taylor said enthusiastically, moving on quickly. “You guys did really well.”  
  
“Not as well as you. You should've just stood up on the stage for the whole thing, with the amount of times you got called up,” Louis laughed, to which she shrugged. The grin on her face said it was a bigger deal to her than just something she could pass off easily.   
  
“What did you think of the video?” she asked curiously, her eyes moving back to Harry's.   
  
“'s good,” was all he managed.   
  
“Very good. Very action-packed,” Louis added in helpfully. “And a great cast you got yourself there.”  
  
“Thanks,” Taylor smiled at him instead. “It was a lot of fun. Fighting one of your best friends isn't, though.”  
  
Harry nodded understandingly when her eyes flickered back to his meaningfully. “You're a very good actor,” he complimented, though he wasn't so sure she took it as one when she only gave him a small smile in return.   
  
“So, where's Niall?”  
  
There she was, already calculating her exit. He didn't blame her — he was too.   
  
“Went to have a beer with Ed, I think,” Louis answered.   
  
“I should go say hi. Have fun, guys.”  
  
And with that, Taylor waved her goodbye and Harry watched longingly as she strutted away in that gorgeous white dress.  
  
“Bloody hell, Harry; a conversation won't kill you,” Louis muttered as soon as she was out of earshot, raising his own glass to his lips and taking a swig.   
  
“I want to go home,” Harry announced, not for the first or last time that night.   
  
“You can't. You've still got—”  
  
“—38 minutes and 27 seconds—”  
  
“—left here. C'mon, let's have a dance.”

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

  
  
Harry's dance didn't last very long at all. His heart just wasn't in it. He was too busy watching the animated conversation going on between Niall, Ed and Taylor across the room, a little pissed at them for being so natural and at himself for not being able to just forget about his feelings and have some fun. Louis didn't try to stop him when he went to grab another drink.   
  
They sat on a couch near the outer rim of the cluster of dancers, sipping from their glasses and watching in disinterest. Well, Harry was — Louis looked like he was itching to get out there, bouncing his leg and scanning the crowd for Niall. Harry felt guilty for dulling Louis' night, but he didn't _have_ to stay with him.   
  
“You can go out there, you know,” Harry told him, gesturing towards the group with his glass. “I don't need a babysitter.”  
  
“Do you really want to sit here all alone feeling sorry for yourself?”  
  
“I'll find someone to talk to.”  
  
Louis looked at him dubiously. “ _Right._ Well, maybe I don't want to have fun when my best friend isn't.”  
  
“I don't want to make your night shit, Lou,” he said, looking at the older boy seriously. “I don't care if you go and have some fun. Look at Niall — he was literally just having a laugh with the reason _my_ night is shit.”  
  
Harry tried not to be bothered with Niall's ease with Taylor. He knew they were friends, but it would be a little nice if Niall wasn't quite so impressed by her. Even though he knew it wasn't fair of him to make anyone pick sides, he would feel better if Team Tayvin wasn't so overpoweringly large.   
  
“I wonder why she invited you,” Louis mused, swirling the last of his drink around before downing it. “Or me, for that matter.”  
  
“Probably didn't want to seem rude,” Harry shrugged, though the whole idea of inviting your ex to watch you make out with your new boyfriend seemed pretty low. Who even does that?  
  
Louis laughed. “I know you like her, and I don't want to sound like a dick, but it was a bitch move. Don't think you can't say it was a bitch move just because you like her.”  
  
“She probably didn't think—”  
  
“No excuses, Harold. It was a bitch move. If _you_ had a party and you were going to spend the whole night with your tongue down someone else's throat, would you invite her?”  
  
Harry glanced away, eyes searching for and landing on the back of Taylor's blonde bob out of habit. His throat constricted when he saw Calvin leaning in with his arms around her. “No,” he managed to choke out when he forced himself to look back at Louis. “Even if I hated her, I wouldn't do that.”  
  
“So the question is: why does she want to crush your heart into a million little pieces?”  
  
As much as he willed himself not to, Harry couldn't help himself from looking back at Taylor and Calvin and their very public display of affection. He racked his brain for what he could've possibly done to make her want him to feel this way. She hadn't seemed pissed off in any of their recent texts, so he didn't think he'd said anything wrong. But maybe he had and her continued friendliness was a lie. Maybe she was setting him up to have the greatest fall she could muster out of him. That didn't sound like the Taylor he knew, but maybe he didn't know her very well anymore.   
  
Harry was still debating it even when Louis got back from getting the both of them new drinks. “I don't think I did anything,” he decided. “I don't think it's my fault.”  
  
“That's more like it,” Louis grinned. “Maybe you'll be up and dancing after this round.”  
  
“I doubt it.”  
  
“There isn't any room for doubts, Harold. I say we find Niall and get some shots into you. If you can't have a good time, you can at least look like you are.”  
  
Can't argue with that. 

  
* * * * * * * * * * * * *

  
After the first round of shots with Louis, Niall and Ed, who tagged along as soon as he heard the word “shots”, Harry decided he was quite positively buzzed. Four drinks and the start of some vodka shots in the space of 37 minutes and 19 seconds could do that to you. And he was only just getting started.   
  
“Alright, who are we doing these ones for?” Louis asked once he had refilled everyone's glasses. They'd done the first to him when they decided their reason was going to be a “who” rather than a “what.”  
  
“Niall, for being...for being Niall,” Harry offered, which made them laugh before raising their glasses.   
  
“Next one's for Ed,” Niall decided as Louis reached for the bottle again. “This is a sick party, mate.”  
  
“We have to do it for Taylor, too. It's half hers. Where's she gone?” Ed was already standing on his tip toes and calling her over before Louis had the chance to throw in a sharp, “ _Don't._ ” He found another two glasses which Louis filled reluctantly as Taylor and Calvin slipped their way into their circle, directly across from Harry.   
  
“Oooh, shots!” Taylor beamed, and Harry couldn't help but wonder how much she'd had to drink already. His question kind of answered itself when she giggled and kissed Calvin on the cheek right in front of them after they all put down their glasses again. Harry wasn't the only one looking stunned at that.   
  
“Double shot for Harry!” Louis announced quickly. Two didn't seem nearly enough, but Harry downed them gladly.   
  
“We should go to the photo booth! Doesn't that sound fun?” Taylor suggested next, to which everyone except Harry nodded at.   
  
“'m gonna go to the loo,” he said. “You guys go.”  
  
“We can wait for you,” Taylor smiled at him obliviously.   
  
“'s fine. We can get some later.”  
  
She nodded. “Okay. We've got some great props; you'll love them.”  
  
Louis looked at him and held his gaze questioningly, but Harry just nodded at him to say he was fine. _I'm good. Go. Take some nice pictures. Don't worry about me._  
  
As much of an exit strategy as it was, Harry actually did need to go. He managed to find his way to the bathroom, relieved to find there wasn't a line and that he could take a moment to process what had just happened. — Taylor had been drinking. She wasn't that good with her alcohol. She'd forgotten that Harry hadn't acted his usual self in their first conversation of the night. She'd kissed Calvin in front of him because she'd forgotten that Harry cared. She'd made another (maybe) accidental bitch move.   
  
He didn't get it. Harry really had no clue at all as to what Taylor was doing. She was smart, so there was no way she didn't understand that it bothered him. Even if she'd had a couple of glasses, she would've thought about it before tonight anyway. The only thing that seemed to make sense was that she was trying to make him jealous, which didn't seem necessary or even like her. Either way, it was working. He wanted to punch the wall-length mirror with how frustrated he was getting. (He didn't, of course. Harry Styles wasn't a break-things-because-I'm-mad-and-drunk kind of guy.)  
  
When Harry emerged back into the party, he couldn't see Louis around. After he sat around for another 4 minutes and 25 seconds he decided that he'd been abandoned for a more exciting crowd, and even though he could feel the shots sinking in he went to pour himself another drink. They'd been right at the start — he _could_ drown out his feelings with alcohol, if he tried hard enough. After a few more, he wouldn't even be able to remember why he'd been upset in the first place. Taylor who? Feelings for her? Ha! 

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

It turned out that was only good in theory. In theory, if you drunk until you were buzzing and having difficulty with keeping your vision straight, you were too busy dealing with that to have any brain power left to worry about your problems. In reality, your emotions were multiplied and you were stuck in a limbo of wanting to burst into tears or go over and punch the guy who was all up with your girl. (Harry's policy of not breaking things also extended to not breaking other guys' faces. Mostly because he was scared of retaliation.)  
  
Taylor and Calvin had re-entered the main room — he had no idea where the others were — and Harry had been watching them obsessively. He didn't care that it wasn't a smart thing to do — he just did it anyway. It was kind of like a burning building — you know it's a tragedy, but you can't help yourself from watching. Taylor and Calvin weren't exactly a disaster, but the pressure on Harry's chest suggested otherwise.   
  
Harry watched them dance and laugh and whisper in each other's ear, but mostly he watched them kiss. They kissed a lot. It occurred to him that Calvin was probably happy she hadn't worn her trademark red lipstick, because it would be all over his face by now. Harry wouldn't have cared. He missed having her lipstick prints on his collar.   
  
He decided that Calvin wasn't as good a kisser as him. He didn't know what he'd looked like kissing Taylor, but he assumed it was better than that. He always felt like he fit best with her. Emotions aside, they looked good together. They were close enough in height that it was a nice aesthetic. They both had their successful careers. They were both to die for. Harry argued that despite Calvin's good looks, with his curly hair and dimpled smile and tattooed body _he_ was the more attractive one. Just ask any of his 24 million Twitter followers.   
  
Personality wise, Harry was sure he was Taylor's perfect match. They had a lot in common, they never had a problem finding things to talk about, and their suggestions of what they could do were usually met with a yes. They were both friendly, well-liked, and generally good people. They both told lame jokes, found the same things funny, and knew how to make the other feel better. Their compatibility was even in their zodiac signs. Their stars were aligned, man. _Their stars were aligned._ (Harry may or may not have muttered something like that to himself. _May_.)   
  
Perhaps his biggest realisation was when Calvin twirled Taylor around and pulled her into another kiss. It wasn't his fault that Taylor felt more open with someone like Calvin. Calvin didn't have hoards of teenage girls who fantasized about one day being his wife. He didn't have people who got jealous every time he was pictured with a girl. He just didn't have that kind of image. But Harry did, and ultimately that had been his and Taylor's downfall. It wasn't his fault, and it wasn't completely anyone else's either. It was just how it was. It wasn't fair, but most things aren't.   
  
The thought was somewhat reassuring, but by no means made Harry look at Taylor and Calvin and not want to switch places. His green eyes had never been more appropriate.   
  
By the time Harry was reunited with a friend, he couldn't remember how much he'd had to drink or how much longer he had to sit against the wall with his long legs spread out in front of him and his ex-girlfriend being happy with someone else only a few metres away.   
  
“You look like a right mess, mate,” Ed told him as he sat down beside him, pint in hand. “You alright?”  
  
Harry shook his head. “Louis made me come here but now he's gone and I don't know why I'm still here.”  
  
“I saw you watching Taylor.”  
  
“So you shouldn't have to ask if I'm alright.”  
  
Harry's stare was on Ed and he was worried he might move on to the bursting into tears part of reality. He didn't want to cry here. He didn't want to cry at all, but at least if he was in his hotel room he was safe from judging eyes.   
  
“You're still friends—”  
  
“She doesn't care, Ed. She doesn't care about me anymore.”  
  
“C'mon Harry—”  
  
“She looked right this way and she didn't even notice me. She wouldn't have noticed if I didn't come here in the first place.”  
  
“Harry, of course she cares,” Ed assured him, and if there wasn't a lump forming in his throat he would've disagreed again. “She's just a bit caught up in everything at the moment.”  
  
Harry nodded, and when he thought he could speak without his voice breaking he said, “I think I'm gonna go.”  
  
“Talk to her when you don't sound so drunk.”  
  
He nodded again, though he didn't count on it actually happening. After this, he wasn't sure he wanted to even see her name for a while. He couldn't comprehend how he could stop feeling like he wasn't enough for the girl he wanted everything with when he woke up sober. He couldn't picture a remedy for the hole in his heart threatening to open up and swallow all that was left of him. He just _couldn't._  
  
Ed went in search of Louis at Harry's request, and he sat there for a few dragged out minutes with his eyes closed. He didn't really want to move. He wanted to be in bed without the effort of getting there. He wanted to sleep for the rest of forever, without having to worry about getting to his room without throwing up or about girls who didn't like him back.   
  
“Jesus Christ, Harry, you look like an alcoholic,” came Louis' voice, bringing his mind back to the present. “C'mon, let's get you home.”  
  
“I wanna go home,” he mumbled, looking up bleary-eyed as Louis took one side and Ed the other, hauling him up and keeping him steady as he stood.   
  
“I'll call you a ride home, okay?” Louis said soothingly, his arm sliding around his waist. Harry wondered how he could go from his joking tone to his soft reassuring voice so quickly.   
  
“I wanna go proper home,” he told him, and Louis nodded understandingly.   
  
“You can get a flight home in the morning. You have to go to your hotel and get some sleep first.”  
  
“Okay.”  
  
They started walking around the outside of the room, figuring it was a safer bet than trying to manoeuvre a stumbling tall lad through groups of people. Over an hour into the party, Harry had managed to over-achieve his target _and_ get himself wasted, so there were still a lot of people around who would judge anyone who couldn't walk on their own or hold their liquor this early in the night. He'd already received a few odd looks, not that he'd paid attention.   
  
Ed left them at the door, so it was up to Louis to get Harry down to the car without any harm. While he was on the phone, Harry found the stairwell beside the elevator to sit in. Moving around had made him a bit dizzy.   
  
“Remember the car you came in, Harry? It's gonna be here in a couple of minutes.” Louis was talking to him like he was a child, which was rather appropriate. He felt like he needed to be taken care of.   
  
“I think I remember,” he said, though the slur of his words didn't fill Louis with confidence.   
  
“I'm sorry I left you for so long,” Louis sighed, guilt in his voice. “I didn't know you were going to pump your veins with vodka.”  
  
Harry looked up at Louis standing above him, confused. “I didn't.”  
  
Louis gave him a small smile as he stroked the top of his head. “Course not. Do you think you can wait here by yourself for a minute? I want to get you some water and let Niall know we're going.”  
  
“You don't have to come with me. You can still have fun.”  
  
“I left you once, I'm not leaving you again.”  
  
“But you're leaving to get me water.”  
  
Louis laughed, which Harry didn't really understand, though he waited obediently after Louis ruffled his hair and ducked back into the party. He started studying the pattern on the wallpaper, which he didn't think was all that nice but it gave him something better to look at than inside had. The wallpaper hadn't done anything to hurt him.  
  
When Harry heard someone coming back down the hall, he pushed himself up off the stair, swaying slightly before regaining his balance and looking up. He hadn't thought about it being anyone other than Louis. The tap of heels should've been the clue.   
  
His stomach twisted as Taylor hurried down to him. “Are you okay?” she asked, and he thought she actually sounded concerned. He couldn't help but note she kept a distance from him when she stopped walking. Probably worried he would get sick on her shoes. “I was just talking to Ed and he said you were leaving, and then Louis came and asked Ed if he'd seen Niall and if he could get water anywhere.”  
  
“'m not feeling well,” he said, which was even more accurate now that she was standing in front of him. “Why are you asking?”  
  
“You're my friend, Harry,” she stated simply. “I'm worried about you.”  
  
“When have you had time to be worried?” he snapped, catching her off-guard. He couldn't read her expression.   
  
“Have I done something wrong?”  
  
Harry stared at her blankly, though his mind was racing. He wanted to yell at her. He wanted to say yes, fucking _yes_ you've hurt me. You've spent this whole night doing the opposite of what a friend is supposed to. You've out-done yourself, Swift. You've made a mess of me.   
  
But he couldn't say any of that, because his brain had fixed itself back on the stage. 

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

_Harry was standing with his three best friends. He was in front of a crowd of too many for him to count. The lights had him unable to recognise anyone who wasn't in the first few rows. He wished they hadn't given her a seat in the first.  
  
They were collecting an award, one of the others making an acceptance speech. Harry didn't think he would be able to say anything himself, not anything enthusiastic, at least. He wasn't feeling the joy he should've been.   
  
When he'd walked on stage, Harry hadn't been able to stop his eyes from landing on Taylor. Dressed in white and right at the front, it was near impossible not to look her way. He wouldn't have minded that if he hadn't looked to see her whispering to Calvin instead of paying attention to him.   
  
His stomach dropped, and it took everything in him not to let his sudden shift in mood show. As hard as he tried, he couldn't plaster a smile on his face _ — _the best he could manage was angling himself away from her direction and an expression that wasn't completely miserable but hardly close to a smile. He didn't think the cameras would catch his misty eyes.  
  
That was when the reality of the Taylor situation had really hit him _ — _right there on stage in front of everyone. That was when he realised how misplaced his optimism had been. They weren't getting back together. They weren't going to hang out any time soon. They weren't even going to publicly acknowledge their friendship because she was too damn scared of the repercussions. They were just a secret. Nothing more than texts and occasional video chats and the fantasy Harry had conjured up in his head.  
  
His heart cracked on that stage and no one had any idea._

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

“Harry?”  
  
He blinked himself out of the memory at the sound of her voice. He still didn't give her an answer. Well, you could say his step to the side and rush of vomit down the stairwell was as good an answer as any.   
  
“Oh, Harry,” Taylor gasped, and to his surprise came over to hold back his hair. He heaved even after his stomach didn't have anything left to give, tears stinging his eyes and regret filling up his now empty space. He wanted to be home. He wanted to be home cuddled up under the covers or just anywhere but _here_.  
  
“'m okay,” he said, almost inaudible as he stood back up straight. He let Taylor put her arm around his waist and walk him down the opposite end of the hall, guiding him to sit back down against the wall.   
  
“I'm so sorry, baby,” Taylor whispered, sitting beside him with one arm around his shoulders and her other hand resting gently on his stomach.   
  
Harry's eyes closed and he leaned into her, despite how much she had sparked all this tonight. He let her comfort him with her quiet reassurances and rub of his tummy. He wouldn't let himself think about how he only let her because he just wanted any of her attention he could get.  
  
When Harry heard footsteps again a few minutes later, he didn't immediately look up this time, not until Taylor whispered “hey” and nudged him slightly. He opened his eyes to see Louis kneeling beside him with his nose screwed up and a glass of water in his hand.   
  
“Where?”  
  
“Stairs,” Taylor answered for him. “It's fine, I'll get someone to deal with it.”  
  
Harry accepted the glass thankfully and took a careful sip. “'m sorry,” he breathed, and both of them shook their heads.   
  
“Let's get you home, alright?”  
  
Louis and Taylor helped Harry up slowly after he'd sipped some more water. He gave Taylor the glass, and he tried not to think too much about the way her hands lingered on his body. He knew she didn't mean it the way he wanted her to.   
  
“Call me tomorrow, okay?” she said, fingers sliding up his shoulder to tuck his long hair behind his ear. “Let me know you're okay.”  
  
_I won't be._  
  
Harry nodded like she expected him to, and with a quick hug they went their separate ways. Taylor swished back into the party, to hang off Calvin no doubt, while Harry and Louis took a wordless trip down in the elevator to the ground floor. With body guard already waiting, they climbed into the car with their heads down and limbs disentangled. Harry could barely remember the last time he and Louis had been allowed to travel together.   
  
It was only 1 minute and 56 seconds into the ride when Style came on the radio to taunt him, the atmosphere in the car tensing. Louis asked to have it changed, but it had already done its damage to Harry. Tears clouded his vision and he tried not to let them fall as he thought about how things used to be. So much for coming back every time, huh?  
  
They spent the journey in silence, the playlist on the new radio station being kinder to him. Harry watched the glow of the city out the window and wondered what it would be like if things were simple. If they could trade places with a regular person on the street, what would be different? He was afraid he still wouldn't get his happy ending.   
  
They were escorted up to Harry's hotel room, helped along by an arm around his waist when his request to be carried by his body guard was met with a “Not in your wildest dreams, mate.” (If you're wondering whether Harry wanted to cry over the choice of words, the answer is yes.) They got a few more whispers and strange looks from other guests passing by, which Harry was aware of this time. He still didn't really care. Their opinion wasn't the one on his mind.   
  
The stillness of the room offered some comfort. The orderliness of it meant he didn't have to think too hard to find anything, and without the personal touches of his own apartment he wasn't distracted by memories. Well, not _easily_.  
  
As he entered the bedroom with a new glass of water, Harry noticed the cream colour of the bed spread was the same as one of Taylor's blankets — a coincidence that sent his heart aching to have her here, even though he was meant to be mad at her. He'd give anything to be able to work things out with her, just the two of them. (Preferably with a make up kiss or two.)  
  
Harry climbed under the comparable covers once he'd gotten changed and brushed his teeth. Louis sat on the edge of the bed, and he felt like a child about to receive a lecture or a piece of advice that would magically fix everything.   
  
“I'm really sorry about making you come tonight,” Louis apologised again. “And for not keeping a better eye on you.”  
  
“'s okay,” he nodded slightly. “I thought it would be easier, too.”  
  
“You don't have to call her tomorrow, y'know.”  
  
“I know.”  
  
“I'll fix you up some breakfast in the morning.”  
  
Harry gave a small smile for the first time in what felt like days. “You're a shit cook.”  
  
“The beauty of room service, my friend,” Louis enlightened him with a grin. “Someone else can do it for you.”  
  
He looked like he was about to say something else, until his phone buzzed in his pocket and he took it out to check. From the dim light coming from the lamp beside the bed, Harry couldn't get a proper look at his expression.   
  
“Who is it?”  
  
“Oh, just Niall,” Louis answered, but Harry could tell there was something more by the way he shook it off. (Heh.)  
  
He hazarded a guess. “Taylor?”  
  
Louis nodded, rubbing Harry's shoulder consolingly when he rolled onto his opposite side. “It's not what you're thinking. Get some sleep, okay? You'll feel better in the morning.”  
  
“Doubt it,” he muttered. Even if his heart patched itself back up overnight, he would still have a hangover to remind him of everything.   
  
“Good night, Haz.”  
  
“Good night, Lou.”  
  
The room descended into darkness as Louis switched off the lamp and shut the door behind him. Harry could hear the tv turn on with the volume on low. He made a mental note to give Louis a better night some other time.   
  
Harry lay awake for longer than he wanted, trying to distract himself from the thoughts of the party that kept creeping their way in.   
  
_I wonder what Louis will get for breakfast. What would Taylor make me?  
  
I wonder what Liam's doing. Niall's probably dancing with Taylor.  
  
Why am I a shit dancer? At least I knew how Taylor liked to dance._  
  
He told himself that he didn't care what was going on back there. It didn't matter to him. He didn't care. He didn't care he didn't care he didn't care he didn't care he didn't care he didn't care.   
  
But as many times as he willed himself to believe it, Harry still went to sleep with a tight grip on his heart that wouldn't ease until he accepted the truth: she wasn't his anymore. 

**Author's Note:**

> Bit of a sad one but I hope you guys enjoyed it! Thanks for reading :)


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